The man who stole the Moon
by HninK
Summary: "Home is where the heart lies, the heart keeps me alive" Life is turned upside down for Lah when she saves a man who has washed down the Salween river during a storm. Stuck in a foreign land, Zhou Yu must find his way back home. Full summary inside.ZY/OC


Co-written with my friend Jessica~~

This was inspired by the new Dynasty Warriors, it was originally going to be a reader insert but then I decided that it won't make sense for a blonde character in ancient China if I wanted it to be historically accurate..

Hopeful if it's good enough we can get it published~~

Review please

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><p><strong>"Home is where the heart lies, the heart keeps me alive." <strong>

**Life is turned upside down for poor Lah when she saves a man who has washed down the Salween river during a storm.  
>Stuck in a foreign land with a foreign language, Zhou Yu must find is way back home, but what about the yound girl who saved his life?<strong>

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><p><strong>196 AD.<strong> A stranger appears.

A young girl, at the edge of her adolescence, quietly toiled about a small plot of farmland, calloused hands working with great skill at the dry hostile land beneath her feet. It was easier for her to grow her own produce, rather than trek to the nearest village. The small village was half a day's trek, one way, from her home adjacent the farmland.

It was true that life would have been easier for her living inside the village. Perhaps, if she had been given the chance a few years previous, she would have thanked the blessed skies for the opportunity. Her parents, to the contrary of the rebellious thoughts of her previous years, had turned the patch of dirt into a home, through the labour of their love. In turn, the thoughts of her rebellion faded as she toiled sweat and blood into the land that she too came to love.

She continued working for hours on end, and it wasn't until a rain drop landed on her forehead and down the bridge of her nose that she paused in her mind-numbing actions. She looked up, eyes widening at the ominous clouds that were slowly creeping overhead. Nimbly, she gathered the ripe vegetation and headed towards her home.

She kicked off her straw sandals and plopped the woven basket in a corner, before remembering the load of laundry she had left to dry by the river. Cursing under her breath, she grabbed the nearby woven basket, and headed out the door.

The rain was pouring by the time she stumbled her way over to the windy riverside. She approached the trees at the edge of the forest, and started pulling her soaked clothing from the sturdy low hanging branches of the giant trees. Behind her, the river raged fiercely growling with the intensity of the storm that she was engulfed in. She was completely oblivious to the monsoon that was growing worse and worse around her, unaware of who or what could be coming in with the torrential rain.

Suddenly, a cold, harsh wind caused her to stumble backwards, dropping her basket in the process. She would have caught herself, if not for the steep bank behind her, causing her to tumble, head-over-heels, towards the beach. She sat up, clutching her throbbing head, when she finally noticed a mud-stained figure only a few measures from her, her eyes quickly attracted to the brown tinted rouge that stood out from the surrounding area.

"_Oh my goodness!_" She finally shrieked after she recovered from her initial shock, crawling on her knees swiftly making her way over to the body. She rolled the body so it was now on its back.

"_Hey,_" She whispered, her voice shrill over the weather.

"_Are you still alive?_" She shook the person a couple times. Seeing a slight twitch of their finger she quickly placed her index finger under their nose; nothing. She then placed her ear against his firm chest. The pulse was faint but she heard it, she thought, or it could have been the raging storm. She lifted the stranger's body, arms tucked under his shoulders, back against her chest, and hauled him over to tree nearby, far enough from the raging waters to be safe, and provide slight shelter from the storm engulfing her.

Once she was confident that the rapid currents couldn't reach them she shifted herself so that she was straddling the stranger, and began thumping his back. Soon he started coughing up water; she heaved a sigh in relief and leaned him back against the tree. She waited a couple seconds but when there was no further movement from him she began to panic, her ear once again pressed to his chest and an index finger under his nose.

A sudden sharp of breath caused her to jump back; she watched for a few moments as he struggled to breathe, a few pats on the back every now and then, uncertain if she was helping or just making it harder for him. Finally his hard, laboured breaths calmed. Finding a drier spot by the mysterious man she leaned her weight back against the tree; heaving an exhausted sigh she spared just a mere second to release a breath, before a large crack of thunder pulled her out of the stupor she was falling into.

She grabbed the forgotten laundry basket and rushed forward to retrieve the clothing that was being strewn around, some pieces already lost in the raging river. She shoved the clothing into the basket, despite many pieces being covered in mud, and rushed back to the man. She ran towards him so quickly, she scraped her knees as she went to kneel beside him.

Struggling to think through a fog of anxiety and adrenaline, she quickly decided on bringing him back to her home. Normally it would be unwise to take a foreign man into her home, but she had already saved him from death, and to leave could make all of her work for naught. There was no way she could carry him all the way to her home, her muscles already aching from dragging him the short distance away from the river, so she took an unfolded blanket and put him upon it, intent on dragging him back to her home at the expense of her bedding.

It was quite the struggle to get him and her clothing back to the house. She had to pause half way through to shove her remaining clothing underneath him to prevent it from blowing away, the basket placed on his legs. Any sense of time left her as she dragged him back to her home. Her muscles burned by the time she finally had him laying in the main area of her hut, with a fire glowing and crackling.

She decided to take a rest before starting to cook her food. Before, she hadn't noticed how handsome he was, even now, covered in dirt, she could see his pale completion and strong jaw line. His hair, long and free, was matted to his face. She took in his muscled stature and observed the muted red of his garments, the embroidered silk brocade clinging to him. She couldn't quite place it, but she noticed how his nose was different from the men in the village and he may have been one of the tallest men she had ever seen.

She stifled a yawn slowly standing from her position, slowly making her way over to where the boiling pot sat over her open fire; her muscles screaming in protest and agony the whole way there. She peered at the thinly cut bamboo shoots dancing around in the stone pot. Her stomach growled in anticipation. She scooped herself a large paddle of rice that she had prepared earlier that morning.

She stared blankly at the far wall as she ate. She made a mental note of what she could sell and what she needed to stock up on when she went into town next. So deep in thought she almost failed to notice the blistering storm that raged around her house, rattling the well built but flimsy exterior. Once she had finished her meal she placed her plate in small pot, leaving them to soak overnight.

Resting her back against the cool wall, her eyes growing slowly heavier, wanting nothing more than to close her eyes and go to sleep. To her discontent, the deep breathing of her new companion turned into ragged coughing, deep and painful to her ears, heard above the loud pounding of rain.

The aching in her bones had now turned into a series or stinging pains all throughout her legs, and a mild burning in her chest. Her own breath became harder to take in as the fire created a sick humid heat contrasting the cold rain outside. She got up with an air of finality about her, and shuffled slowly towards her laundry basket, wanting to hurry, but lacking the energy to do so. She grabbed a blanket, scrunching it up underneath his head to elevate the most precious part of his body*, and another thin blanket to cover him with, not wanting to smother him with his partially wet thick clothing.

His coughing had subsided, and despite under normal circumstances, she would have felt pleased. Her mind, however, was fogged with fatigue as she wearily grabbed a thick blanket for herself and moved herself so as not to be too close to the heat of the fire, and rest head upon her arm, bare feet towards the door*, she almost immediately fell into a deep sleep, the raging world around her making no difference to the even breathing she emitted.

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><p>*In the Burmese culture your head, which is the purestcleanest part of your body, always faces the Buddha (be it a statue, or painting) and the feet always face away from it because the feet is considered unclean.


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